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Spencer and Sarah: Origins
“Mom!” Sarah yelled. The words were filled with excitement
“Yes, honey?” Her mom responded, her voice strained from stretching.
“Look?” Sarah held up a flyer for a free doughnut in front of her mom.
“Can I go?” Her voice was filled with excitement and hope only a child could have.
“Honey, I’m not sure it would be safe” Her mom replied to the eager child.
Her dad appeared behind the mother and placed his hand on her shoulder, directing her attention to him. “She’ll be fine.” He looked at his wife, then his daughter. “Right, Sarah?”
“Yes!” She eagerly responded, already choosing in her head which doughnut she would choose.
Sarah's mom looked at her father, then said to the floor after a deep sigh, “Fine.”
She ran faster than she ever had to her room, ripped a fluffy white coat of the hanger that would easily be mistaken for a small cat and put it on. She tied her shoes sloppily, the only thing keeping them on her feet was hope.
She bolted out of the door so fast she might as well have had lightning behind her listening to her mothers voice fade from the distance as she yelled, ‘Don’t slip on the ice!’”
The brisk air blew across her face as she ran to her destination, slowing down due to over exerting herself at the very start.
She arrived at her destination but she halted to a stop when she heard a noise. A noise so faint that she wouldn’t have noticed it if she was focused on something or talking to someone. But she wasn’t, and she did hear the noise. She listened intently this time, trying to find something out of the ordinary. She heard the sound of a conversation across the street, but far enough away she couldn’t hear the words. The clanking of loose change falling out of a pocket, the rumble of cars in the parking lot starting.
There it was. A groan, she rushed to the source behind the small building. She looked at the sidewalk, lightly coated in ice on on that ice a boy, about her age, lying on the ice. Unconscious, and bleeding.
The blood stained the ice, coming from the boy's nose, forehead, arms and legs. Sarah screamed and ran inside for help.
As an employee went to the back with a first aid kit to tender to the boy and bring him inside, Sarah spent two minutes on the phone trying to explain what happened the best a six year old could. Her mom left immediately to meet Sarah at the store.
The employee brought the boy in and laid him down and covered his major cuts while asking questions, hoping for a response. There was none.
Sarah’s mother rushed inside the store going straight to Sarah.
Her mom looked at the unconscious boy. ‘Is he okay?” she worryingly asked the employee. She may not have been his mother, but she still cared.
“There’s no way to tell.” The employee started, “Our attempts to wake up haven’t worked. He still has a pulse, a weak one but he’s alive. We don’t know if he has other injuries besides the cuts.
The employee wrapped the child in a blanket. “It’s 14 degrees outside, he’s not wearing any proper winter gear, we need to warm him up.”
“His parents haven’t showed up yet?”
“No”
“I’ll take him”
“M’am, with all due respect that may not be the best ide-”
“I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Okay.” He picked up the now bundled child and handed him to Sarah’s mother.
“He’s freezing.”, she said with a worried tone only a mother has.
They took him to the car and Sarah’s mom put the boy in the backseat next to Sarah. Sarah stared at the boy. He looked average in terms of weight and height for his age. His deep brown hair covered his forehead.
As soon as they arrived at the house Sarah’s mom took the boy to her room to tend to his injuries. Sarah lingering in the back watching her mom light the fireplace and clean his wounds .
As she applied the medicine to the cuts the boy flung awake, screaming in pain and agony. Instantly everything in the room went flying. Lamps, pillows, papers. Some stuff hit the wall and some hit the floor and few stayed suspended in the air.
“It’s okay.” Sarah’s mom said with the angelic tone that was her voice. She rested her fingertips on the boy's forehead and the tips of her finger glew light purple as the boy fell asleep again. As soon as that happened everything in the air came crashing to the ground.
“Mom?” Sarah started.
“He’ll be okay honey, go to your room.”
Sarah sat impatiently in her room for 3 hours, but for the six year old, it felt like decades. Then the mysterious boy walked into the room.
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This is the first part of a novel I am writing.